


Warmth in Winter

by Gottaread2



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dark Fantasy, Family Feels, Fluff, Human/Monster Romance, Ice Powers, M/M, Magic, Snow and Ice, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2019-05-24 11:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14953427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gottaread2/pseuds/Gottaread2
Summary: Edward buried his regrets along beside her ready to begin anew. On his way out of the woods, he became trapped in a strange blizzard and might not survive. Little does he know he will meet one destined to both make and destroy him. A monster like himself, unlike himself. A monster that is real.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of what is canon will be in this story, but a lot will also be changed (like everything involving Oswald lol). Oswald and Edward never meet at the GCPD for instance. In this chapter, Edward is burying Kristen Kringle's body in the woods and the story will continue on from there.

The day was bitterly cold, colder than it should have been that early in the year. A cold that seeped deep into the marrow of one's bones and lingered there even once the skin was warmed. Snowflakes danced in the air, filtering through the foliage of trees that still bore the colors of fall, but not for much longer. Winter had come early it seemed. It was fitting, Edward thought, as he wrapped his coat tighter around himself. After all, winter had come early to his love as well. He shivered. The man had not meant to take her life. He had lost himself in a moment of panic. A moment of desire. He had only wanted to make her understand. All that he did, the monster that he was, all of it was for her. His hands were wrapped so tightly around that fragile throat and squeezing without his notice. He recalled the way her limp form slid to the floor once he had finally released his hold. Now she lay beneath a layer of freshly dug earth, her final resting place. He had mourned her, but her death would also be his rebirth. He had discovered who he truly was that day. 

Edward buried his regrets along beside her ready to begin anew. This was only the beginning of his tale. He could not yet know how true for him this would be. The way his life would be forever altered by this moment. If he had not been in the woods that day, he would not have encountered one destined to both make and destroy him. A monster like himself, unlike himself. A monster that was real. But maybe that was his fate. Clueless as to what fate had in store, he picked up his shovel and began the weary walk back down the trail. His only concern to make it to his car before nightfall.

As he continued down the path the snow fell in frantic swirls, increasing in number. It wasn't long before everything he could see was touched with stark white. The wind picked up sending a chill through him. Edward began to worry. There had been no mention of a possible blizzard when he'd checked the weather that morning, but weather in Gotham could be quite unpredictable. He increased his pace eager to make it safely back to civilization before the threatening storm.

An hour later things took a turn for the worse. Cold wind whipped through the trees, stinging his face and stealing his breath. The world was lost under a thick layer of white and the snow continued to fall. It became impossibly harder to see. The path he followed was nowhere, vanished from view. Edward struggled on, completely lost, but knowing that to stop would be to freeze to death. As he wandered on he saw a figure far ahead of him. Who else could possibly be out in this storm? Despite the danger he was in, his curiosity overtook him and he made his way towards it. 

As he approached, he was able to make out some features. Feathery black hair swept back from a delicate brow. An elegantly pointed nose, a small alluringly pink mouth, and prominent cheekbones. Skin that was nearly translucent and pale as the moon. A tattered cloak was wrapped around his shoulders, offering little protection from the biting cold. This strange man possessed an otherworldly beauty. Edward found himself instantly entranced. He took a slow step forward, not sure what to expect from the stranger. Somehow, impossible as it may be, he doubted the humanity of the man standing before him. Icy blue eyes met his own, sending a chill down his spine. Immediately, a sort of peace settled around them, like a protected pocket of space separate from the raging snowstorm. Complete silence surrounded. It was then that Edward saw something cradled in the mysterious man's arms. A child with curling brown hair. The man and the boy watched Edward with matching icy eyes.

“Will you help me?” the man pleaded and somehow Edward was surprised he could speak. A part of him had believed the man to be nothing more than an apparition of his own exhausted mind.

“Yes.” Edward answered. He'd felt compelled to say it. With a gnawing fear in his mind, he realized there was nothing he would not do for the man if he were to ask.

“Thank you. Please, take the boy and carry him for me. Take him out of this storm.” The stranger requested. 

Edward took in the man's smaller stature. The man stepped forward, revealing a limping gate. No wonder he needed assistance. Edward nodded his agreement and the man smiled brightly at him. It was an enchanting smile. Possibly literally. Edward held out his arms to receive the child. The man handed the boy over to him, gently tucking him into his arms. Immediately Edward felt the cold seeping through him, as if the child were made of snow. But that was impossible, wasn't it? The storm resumed around him, wind whistling in his ears, snow falling in his eyes. 

“Which way?” Edward asked the stranger, but he had disappeared. Unnerved by this, Edward hurried forward with his new burden. The boy clung around his neck and Edward could feel his faint breath. It was as icy as the wind. Edward tried not to think about this. About the dread that filled the pit of his stomach with each cold breath against his skin. There was something not right about the boy. But he would not think of it. 

As he walked, the child seemed to grow heavier and heavier. He adjusted his hold around the boy multiple times in an attempt to ease his aching muscles but without success. No matter how he tried he only felt more weighed down. He eventually shifted the boy onto his back and that offered him some temporary relief. But before long this too became unbearable. The more he struggled on, the more unnaturally heavy the boy became. It was through strength of will, not body, that Edward persevered. 

He did not know how far he walked or for how long. It felt like an eternity. Like he had always been trapped in this hellish storm, carrying this heavy burden, and like he always would be. Despair was nipping at his heals threatening to drag him down the moment he gave in. The snow held the promise of a soft sleeping place. A final rest that seemed increasingly tempting. He almost lost hope. Determined to get himself and the child out of the storm alive, Edward decided he needed to distract his mind.

“What I am, the poor have, the rich need, and if you eat it you die… It's, um, it's a riddle.” Edward told the child on his back. The boy remained silent and he worried that he may have succumbed to the cold. However, when he looked over his shoulder and into the boy's face, bright eyes stared back at him. Edward sighed with relief.

“He doesn't speak.” Came a voice from beside him. It was the beautiful man from before. He had reappeared as if out of thin air. Like magic. And as he limped along beside them, he left no footprints in the snow. Edward was only slightly startled by this. He did not really have the energy to properly worry about it anymore. Fear no longer haunted him the way weariness did.

“Oh. Well, what about you then? Do you know the answer?” Edward asked with a huff. He really was exhausted. And he could no longer feel his feet.

The man studied him for a moment with cold eyes that seemed to see right through to his soul. He blinked. Then he replied, “nothing.”

“Correct!” Edward beamed, forgetting for a moment his fatigue, “Do you like riddles?”

“No.” the stranger answered. 

“Shame. You're not too bad at them. Most people don't even bother to try and answer.” Edward said conversationally before introducing himself, “I'm Edward.”

He held out his hand to shake. The man peered down at it, but maintained his distance.

“If you knew me, you would know you are standing too close.” The man replied. This only left Edward more intrigued. By now he had completely forgotten his earlier uneasiness. His current companion's company and the mystery he represented had worked wonders at distracting him.

“Who are you?” he asked, curiously.

The man paused a moment as if contemplating the question.

◇◇◇

Decades ago, there had been a man by the name of Elijah Cobblepot and his wife Gertrud. Elijah and Gertrud had spent a lifetime together and were entering the later years of life. By the standards of most, their lives had been insignificant, although quite comfortable. The life they had made together was warm, safe, and happy. What more could one wish for? But, for Gertrud, there was a void that had never been filled. Most nights she managed to forget the longing in her heart. She had her husband and she was content. Most nights. It was however the one regret Gertrud had in life. That they never had a child to call their own. 

In their older age, most nights were spent around the fireplace in the enormous Cobblepot mansion. Their quiet evenings together were treasured by both of them, though sometimes their home felt too empty with just the two of them. And it was this emptiness that caused Gertrud to feel lonely.

Elijah could not bare to see his wife in such a melancholy mood over the holidays and an idea formed in his mind. He decided to plan a surprise vacation for Gertrud that Christmas! They would get away from the city for a while. Spend time in a charming little cabin in the woods. The smaller accomodations would feel cozy and inviting compared to the empty mansion. It was just the perfect place to spend the holidays. Gertrud was thrilled when she heard of his plan. A getaway in the woods sounded so romantic.

The pair packed and made preparations for the trip. Suitcases were loaded into their car. Lights turned out and locks were locked. They got into the car and drove away from their lonely home.

The cabin was everything Gertrud had hoped for. It looked like something out of a fairytale set against a background of towering evergreens and covered in snow. Elijah pulled into the drive and despite her age, Gertrud practically leapt from the car as soon as it came to a halt. Her joints crackled in protest at the rough treatment, but it did nothing to dampen her spirits.

Once inside, the pair set about making the place more homey. Elijah started a fire. It crackled merrily in the fireplace filling the chilly cabin with it's warmth. Gertrud began unpacking their things. As she was busy tidying up and arranging the ornaments they had brought along with them, her husband went back out and into the woods to gather more firewood.

Unknown to either of them, a pair of icy eyes had watched their every move since their arrival. The strangely pale boy lurked behind a tree, only emerging from his hiding place once the man had disappeared into the surrounding forest. He crept closer to the cabin and peaked in a window to watch the woman. He liked the way her wavy hair swayed as she bustled around the cabin. A smile on her face and a song on her lips. He listened, contentedly, to her sweet voice singing the nostalgic melody. His eyes drifted closed. He was soon fast asleep.

He woke on the sofa by the fireplace, a woolly blanket draped over him. Warmth. It was an odd feeling for him being that he had never before experienced it. Odd, but not uncomfortable. Though his body did not need warmth, the boy decided he liked the sensation and snuggled deeper into the blanket. In the background he could still hear the woman's voice, now humming rather than singing, and the clink of something and a pouring sound. Before long she came back into view, carrying with her a tray with some teacups set on top. 

"Hello. I'm glad to see you awake. But what were you doing out in the snow like that? You could catch your death sleeping in the cold that way." Gertrud tutted. 

The boy remained silent, pulling the blanket tighter around himself and glaring out at the woman. The nerve! Did this human think she could scold him? Besides the idea that the cold could ever kill him was completely ridiculous. He had a mind to tell her so, but at the petulant look on his face, Gertrud chuckled.

"A spirited little rascal, aren't you? Well, never mind that. Here, take this." She said offering him a cup, "This is just the thing for cold days like this. I added a little honey for sweetness."

He took the offered cup. The smell was pleasant so he took a few careful sips. The first one burnt his tongue and he felt betrayed by the warmth not knowing that it could hurt so bad. He was more careful after that. He watched the woman with her own cup, the way she blew on the liquid before drinking. He mimicked her blowing on his own drink as well.

"So, do you live nearby?" Gertrud asked him curiously.

"Yes." He answered her. And it was true. The boy had made his home in the area (for the remainder of the winter at least). When spring came, he would depart back to the other realm. A place no human could go.

"Where are your parents? They must be worried." Gertrud continued to question him.

"I don't have any." He answered her perplexed.

"No parents? What about your guardian then? Who takes care of you?" She pressed him.

The boy thought for a moment, wondering if he should tell her the truth. He decided he would, although not all of it. He told her that he was alone. She didn't need to know that it had always been that way or that it was natural for his kind. Some snow children had mother's and others didn't. It was probably because he was a boy. His kind were supposed to only be female. A male amongst his kind was rare and considered a defect. That must be why his birth mother abandoned him. But the woman before him need not know he wasn't human.

"Oh, you poor thing!" She cooed, "No mother, no father. Well I always wanted a son, if you'll have me for your mother?"

The boy nodded eagerly. It felt so strange to be wanted. But he liked it. And he liked this gentle woman who sang sweet songs, gave him warmth, and brought him drinks. He liked the way she fussed over him. He had always wanted a mother and now he had one.

"It's settled then. My Elijah will be delighted." The woman chirped happily, "I can't wait to introduce you... Oh, but I don't know your name! What are you called, dear boy?"

"I don't have a name." 

Now it was Gertrud's turn to look perplexed. No parents was one thing, but the poor child didn't even have a name? How could this be? He was certainly old enough to be called something. No matter. She would give him a name.

◇◇◇

Edward watched the unearthly man and waited. Time stretched on and he was beginning to think his question would go unanswered. Finally the man gave his reply.

“You can call me Oswald. Oswald Cobblepot. It's not what I am, but someone dear to me gave me that name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know I should be working on my other unfinished fics instead of starting a new one, but here we are. This idea has been in my head for a long time now and just wouldn't leave me alone. Sorry to anyone waiting on updates for my other stories. I promise I've still been working on those too. I just got a little stuck at the moment with those lol. So here we go. The yuki onna AU nobody asked for lol.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Edward tries to learn more about the mysterious man, Oswald, he begins to realize the danger he is in. Edward must think of a way out of it before it's too late and he freezes to death. Also, a flashback will reveal how Oswald met Martin amd how much the boy means to him.

“You can call me Oswald. Oswald Cobblepot. It's not what I am, but someone dear to me gave me that name."

"Oswald then," Edward nodded, "You are not human, are you?"

"No. I am not." Oswald replied with a smirk.

Goosebumps spread across his skin and Edward felt a thrill run through his spine. He could feel the pace of his heart quicken. Was it fear or intrigue that made it race? He did not know, but Oswald was by far the most fascinating mystery he had ever encountered.

"Are you going to ask what I am?" Oswald inquired.

"I'd rather try to figure it out for myself. If I guess correctly will you tell me the truth?"

"Perhaps. Do you have a guess?" Oswald grinned.

Edward thought for a moment. In truth he could not begin to guess what Oswald might be. He had never before considered the supernatural before. And besides his mind was not at it's best. The numbing cold had already made it hard to think and he was worn down by the unnatural weight he carried on his back. It shouldn't be possible that the child was so heavy! And whatever he was, the boy was likely the same type of creature as Oswald. The child certainly felt solid enough, but there was something odd about the way Oswald left no tracks in the snow. Maybe he was a ghost? Or some other type of spirit?

Edward told Oswald his guess and the man chuckled in amusement. It appeared the true answer still remained a mystery. He sighed, deciding on another question he hoped would be answered.

"Do you know if we are headed in the right direction? I feel as though I've been walking in circles. I should have made it back to my car by now."

"Direction doesn't matter." Oswald answered cryptically, "Though you are not walking in circles, you might as well be. You will only make it back _if_ I decide to let you."

"If I understand you correctly, then you are telling me that I am basically your prisoner. You are the one responsible for trapping me in this storm?"

"Yes." 

The answer was delivered with a cruel certainty that sent shivers down Edward's spine. His fear returned with a terrible strength, despite his fatigue. His mind raced desperately trying to think of a way out of his current predicament. Some plan of escape. If what the man told him was true, running would offer no solution. He appeared not to be bound by the laws of the natural world anyway if his abilities to disappear and reappear were anything to go by. There must be something he could do. Some weakness he could exploit...

The child!

He couldn't be certain, but the way the man had handled the child earlier with gentleness and a tender look on his face. He cared for the boy. If Edward's hunch proved true, maybe he could save himself with a threat. They were not ghosts after all (Oswald had confirmed it), so surely they could be killed. If he threatened the child's safety, maybe Oswald would release him. It was the only plan he could come up with that seemed to have even a remote chance of success.

Edward delicately felt around in his trousers' pocket until his hand brushed against cold metal. He withdrew the little pocket knife, careful to keep it concealed from Oswald's view. Edward bit back his nerves. He really wasn't sure this would work, but he had to try something. He stopped walking.

"What are you doing?" Oswald questioned, watching Edward with suspicion. 

Edward remained silent, but slid the boy from his back until he had hold of him in his arms once more. Oswald's expression was growing increasingly concerned and Edward began to feel more confident his plan would succeed. Swiftly, he dropped the boy to the ground, keeping one hand tightly gripping the boy's shoulder and the other holding the knife pressed against his throat. The boy gasped in alarm.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Oswald screeched in anger, taking a menacing step towards Edward, ready to lash out at him.

"Stay back!" Edward warned.

Oswald flinched seeing the blade pressed tighter into the boy's neck. He froze on the spot, panic plain upon his face. The snow and wind ceased instantly.

"Please, don't hurt the boy. He's innocent!" Oswald pleaded.

"If you want him unharmed, you will release me." Edward ordered.

"Of course, of course. Please! _Anything_! Just please let go of my son!" The man cried.

Edward felt compelled to let go immediately, but fought against the urge to do so. He wanted to do whatever Oswald asked of him, felt it so strongly he knew he was being bewitched. He felt the boy shudder in his grasp, making him feel pity. He almost let go. But he knew to give in too soon would be to lose his life. He needed a guarantee of his safety before he let go.

"How do I know you will honor what you say?" Edward demanded.

"I'll take you back right now. I swear to you. Wherever you want to go, I can get you there. If I do that will you release him?"

Edward nodded in agreement. Oswald slowly turned away, although he never fully took his eyes away from the boy, and began leading the way. Whatever life energy he may have gotten from the strange riddle man was not worth Martin's life.

◇◇◇

Oswald enjoyed watching over the city of Gotham. Humans were curious creatures, so easily manipulated. He liked to watch them going about their daily lives, cataloging their weaknesses, and sometimes even intervening when someone sparked his interest. It was almost always for nefarious purposes on his part. After all most of them were vile or moronic. The only worthwile humans he had thus far met were his dearly departed mother and father. He cared not for other humans. If they succumbed to his trickery, what should Oswald feel guilty about? But this was not the case with Martin.

The first time he saw the child, poor Martin was being ambushed by a group of bullies. They pelted the smaller boy with snowballs, mercilessly. Oswald knew that snowball fights were a favorite past time among young humans during the winter, but there was nothing fair or fun about such a large group attacking a single child. Still, it wasn't his business if human children saw fit to torment the weaker of their own. He continued watching with not quite the same cold indifference he usually had (he did feel some pity for the boy). It all quickly melted away, however, when he caught sight of the trap the smaller child was leading his bullies into. Out onto the pond, frozen over with ice. Interesting. Oswald was familiar with this particular spot. The ice was strong enough to support someone small and light (someone the smaller boy's size), but would never hold up the weight of the bullies. The clever child must have planned it all. The ice was camouflaged by a light layer of snow. By the time the bullies realized, it would be too late.

Oswald smiled as he saw the larger boys skidding across the ice in a panic. The ice cracked and down they went. The way their limbs flailed uselessly about as they sank into the cold was such a ridiculous sight that Oswald chuckled in amusement. He could see the terrible grin spread across the little prankster's face as he too watched his revenge unfold. 

Oswald took an interest in the child after that, watching his antics all winter. Occasionally he would even converse with the boy, teaching him things or entertaining him with his snow magic. It was easy enough to do without notice from other humans as the boy was a bit of a loner. No surprise given his peculiarities and small size. He was not like other children his own age. The boy was mute although he had other ways of communicating. Oswald would watch in fascination as the boy scribbled drawings or words across the little notepad hanging from his neck during their conversations. The speed with which he could draw and write were actually quite impressive. Unfortunately, the other children did not seem to think so and would pick on Martin, sometimes stealing the notepad away and indulging in a cruel game of keep away. Upon seeing it Oswald would freeze with rage (when had he come to care so much for the little human?) and would find a way to payback the bullies. Maybe icicles would mysteriously loosen and fall atop their heads. Or maybe upon taking a backward step, their feet would slip on a patch of ice. 

The injuries he caused were never too severe, but it wasn't long before the other children started keeping their distance from Martin. He developed a reputation for being a jinx to those around him. Oswald hadn't anticipated this outcome. He felt remorseful and decided that maybe it would be better for the child if he were to leave him alone and stop interfering.

The damage was already done, however. And Martin's reputation brought further misfortune upon him. It almost cost him his life.

The night was frosty, ice clinging to every rooftop in Gotham. Oswald was wandering the city, looking for some mischief to keep him entertained. When he found nothing to amuse himself, he decided to check in on Martin again. He still felt bad about causing the boy additional trouble. He peaked in a window of the orphanage where the child lived. Peering into the room he saw no sign of Martin. Odd. A strange sense of dread settled into the pit of his stomach. This late at night, he should be there, snuggled safely in bed.

He drifted away from the window, deciding he would check again the next day. It wasn't as though Martin were his responsibility. Besides, he'd probably just gone for a drink of water or the restroom. But as he was leaving, he noticed the small footprints in the snow, leading away from the building. He followed the trail of prints down the road. Mile after mile and finally entering one of Gotham's parks. It was only a short distance after that before he came upon the tiny figure huddled on a bench. 

It was Martin. The boy had fallen asleep on the park bench out in the cold. In these temperatures, it was a terribly dangerous thing to do. What a way to get oneself killed! Oswald would later learn that Martin had not been trying to die, but rather was just trying to run away from the orphanage. The poor kid hadn't been able to take the bullying and loneliness any longer and was merely trying to escape. 

Oswald rushed to the child's side, noting that he had fallen unconscious, not good. He placed a hand to the tiny face. His skin was as cold as Oswald's, not good at all. How long had he been out here? It could of been hours! Oswald felt his stomach clench with guilt. Somehow he knew this was his fault. If he had only kept watch on the boy, this might never have happened. Oswald checked for a pulse and found the heartbeat to be weak and irregular, but still definitley there. Martin's condition seemed desperate. Oswald knew he didn't have much time to act. Not enough time to get help or take him to a hospital. There was really only one solution if he wanted to save the boy.

He scooped the child into his arms and pressed his cold lips to warm ones, like a mother kissing her babe. He felt the flow of the boy's life passing into him. He was in luck. There was still enough strength to it that he would be able to complete the spell. The boy's eyes snapped open, wide with fear and he struggled in Oswald's vicelike grip. Oswald held him still and continued to devour the child's life. It broke his heart to see his terror, but Oswald knew it would soon be over. Besides, he did it for him. It was the only way to save him. Eventually, the boy's movements stopped, his struggle finally ended. 

Oswald looked down into dead eyes and blue lips, little Martin's soft features frozen in a mask of horror. But not for long. Oswald opened his mouth and began to sing a lullaby. The one his mother used to sing. A comforting melody to greet the boy when he returned. The words did not really matter, nor the tune. It was the power of his voice in combination with the recently absorbed life energy that would revive the boy.

As he sang, his magic wove their souls together, binding the boy's life to his own. Now forever parent and child. One could not survive without the other. Gradually, the child began to stir. The tiny chest rose and fell with his first new breaths. The light returned to his eyes which now shown an icy blue. His lips remained tinted blue and his skin was pale as death. These were all part of the change. Oswald had made Martin like himself, stripped away the boy's humanity. It was the only way to survive the cold.

◇◇◇

Edward followed after Oswald, lowering the blade while they walked but keeping a firm grip on the boy's shoulder. He watched Oswald wearily, mentally preparing himself for any sort of trick or trap. It proved unnecessary, however. Before long the three emerged into a clearing and there was Edward's car. He sighed in relief. He was almost safe. He just might survive this strange encounter.

Oswald having fulfilled his end of their bargain, Edward finally released his hold on the boy. The child ran across the snow and hurled himself into Oswald's embrace. Edward looked away sheepishly, ashamed at using a child (even a supernatural one) in this manner. Oswald glared at him over the boy's head. 

"I... I meant no harm. Really." Edward stammered, "Um, I wasn't really going to, um, hurt him. I was just trying to get back here before I ended up frozen."

Oswald deflated somewhat at these words. Edward really couldn't be blamed for his actions under these circumstances. Besides, he had won the game and made it back alive. Now Oswald owed him one favor. It was part of the gamble Oswald made. This type of magic was not natural to his kind. It was a power he had won for himself, but the magic came with rules. It relied upon some element of risk. A bet was made. If he were to lose the bet and if he did not honor the debt, his power would be halved until he won his next bet. Oswald loathed that weakened state. He didn't want to go back to relying solely upon the magic of his kind. So it seemed he would have to spare this man. At least until he repayed him a favor.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald recalls how he came to acquire his most powerful magic. In the flashback, Oswald was devastated after the loss of his parents. His emotional outburst would lead him to an acquaintance with a powerful witch named Fish Mooney.

Edward had won the game and made it back alive. This meant Oswald would now owe him a favor or his magic would be halved. It was part of the rules. This type of magic was a power he had won for himself, not natural to his kind. It was a power that originally belonged to the great witch of Gotham herself, she by the name of Fish Mooney. When they first met, Oswald had been at his lowest point. He had lost both of his parents and suddenly found himself all alone in the world. That terrible winter would be forever etched in his mind, as would the events that followed.

◇◇◇

She lay in bed feeling incredibly tired. Her breath rattled in her chest and her mind seemed to be wandering away from the body trapped beneath the sheets. It would not hold her much longer. It was not disease or injury that would claim her in the end. A natural death at the end of a long, happy life, her beloved son at her bedside, and her dear husband awaiting her in the afterlife. It would be peaceful. As peaceful as something as ugly as death could ever be. What more could one wish for? She even had the chance for one last goodbye to Oswald. Her only wish was that she could take his pain away with her.

“But I can make you like me! You will never be cold again. We can be together!” Oswald pleaded.

“No, my dear boy.” Gertrud sighed, “I am old. I have lived a long and happy life. It is time for me. Elijah will be waiting.”

“Mother, please!” he begged, shards of ice falling from his eyes and glistening against his cheeks.

She reached up a trembling hand and wiped them away. She pressed her palm into her son's cheek which felt as cold as she was. She stroked across it tenderly.

"Sshh," she soothed, "No more tears. I'd rather hear your lovely voice. Do that lullaby I used to sing when you were little. The one that helped you sleep."

Oswald sniffed, rubbing the ice from his eyes. His heart was breaking and there was no song there, but for her he would do anything. He cleared his throat and began to sing:

_The fire has gone out, wet snow from above, but nothing will warm me more than my, my mother's love._

_I light another candle, dry the tears from my face, but nothing can protect me more than my mother's warm embrace_

_The path ahead is dark, so dark I cannot see But I will not fear 'cause my mother looks over me._

Sometime during the song, her eyes had closed, her breath had stilled. She had drifted away. Like falling asleep, Oswald thought. He carried her out of their home, bringing her to the place where they had buried his father. He laid her down upon the ground, gently so that he wouldn't disturb her rest. It was the lie his heart told him to keep himself whole. Merely sleeping his heart whispered. He began to dig. A hole in the ground, wound in the earth. Oswald encased his mother's body in ice that would never melt, a way to preserve her and protect her eternal slumber. Then he laid her in her bed of earth, her chosen place, beside her beloved Elijah. They were both gone now, his father and mother.

The wind howled. A hauntingly forlorn sound that did not cease, night or day. Snow rained down upon Gotham. It covered everything and piled inch upon inch like it would never stop. The storm lasted for several days and was recorded as the worst blizzard the city had ever known.

But eventually the snow melted. Flowers bloomed. Birds sang in the branches of trees made freshly green by the coming spring. Winter had been long that year but finally met its end. Except at the former home of the Cobblepots. Here the frost still clung unable to let go. The air retained its chilly bite and winter refused to move on, much like Oswald's broken heart. Frozen. He was still in mourning. All he had left was their home filled with memories that pierced him like icicles. It was in this state that the Gotham Witch would discover him.

Oswald was in the garden, still dead from the cold, contemplating the empty flowerbeds. Lilies had grown here once. He wished there were some here now. He wanted to place a bouquet of his mother's favorite flower on her grave. She would have appreciated it. He was startled from his thoughts by the crunch of approaching footsteps. For a moment his mind had thought his mother had come back to him, before he remembered. It could not be her. He whirled around to see a tall woman striding towards him with an air of authority. He could taste the magic coming off of her and there was a dangerous glint in her dark eyes. She was no ordinary human (if she was human at all). He should have felt fear at the sight of her if he felt he had anything left to lose, but he did not. What had he to fear when he had already lost everything? He met her intense gaze without wavering as she lifted a hand to touch his cheek. She drew sharp red nails lightly across his skin and he did not flinch. 

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" Oswald hissed. He had no idea who this woman thought she was or what right she thought she had to trespass on his parent's home.

The woman merely laughed. She took a step back away from him, eyes raking over his form. She tilted her head to the side and circled around him like a shark around it's prey before it attacks. Oswald stiffened, preparing himself to fight back. He might have lost everything, but he was still a fighter. He wouldn't go down so easily. Oswald would do everything to protect this place, the resting place of his loved ones. Even if it cost his life. 

"So you're the one responsible for this?" the woman spoke gesturing around at their frosty surroundings. She was not really talking to him, more to herself.

"Excuse me!" Oswald exclaimed, hating to be ignored as though he were nothing more than an object of interest rather than a person.

"And the storm. That was you as well I'm guessing?" the woman met his eyes, addressing him this time.

"The snowstorm? Well, I... my emotions got the better of me." Oswald admitted. He felt tears come to his eyes and he sniffled, "My dear mother and father were the only people in the world who truly cared for me and now they are gone."

"I'm sorry for your loss." the woman replied coldly.

Oswald did not think she really cared for his pain. Her tone lacked any genuine sympathy and her expression seemed mostly bored. How dare this woman intrude on his home this way and then disrespect his parents! Oswald could feel his blood begin to freeze with his fury, a cold blue flush spreading across his face. He glared back at the woman, fists clenched, feeling the ice gather in his palms. She seemed unconcerned by his anger, offering no apology. Without warning, Oswald lunged forward, pressing the edge of an icy dagger against the insolent woman's throat, ready to slash through her flesh but... he could not. His body froze and he was unable to move.

"Impressive." She drawled, inspecting the icy blade still clenched in Oswald's fist.

The woman pressed a finger along the edge, feeling it's sharpness against her skin. She ran her fingertip lightly across it allowing it to just barely break the skin and a drop of blood to well up from the cut. Oswald's eyes widened in surprise as he watched his ice melt in an instant at the blood's touch. Then the woman's eyes glowed with a strange pinkish light and he was suddenly thrown back, landing on his back with a loud whump. The breath was knocked out of him from the impact and he lay gasping and stunned. The woman stood over him and smirked.

"Impressive, but still too raw. However, you could be quite powerful with the right teaching." the woman told him.

"You... wish to teach _me_? Magic? Like what you just used on me?" Oswald sneered, scrambling back to his feet, "Well, sorry to disappoint, but I have no intention on going anywhere with you."

"And I never intended to give you a choice, boy." the woman told him sternly, "I didn't know exactly what to expect coming here. I was planning only to rid the area of whatever magical disturbance I found. Which so happened to be you. Be glad I've deemed you worthy to be my apprentice instead."

"Who are you?"

"My friends call me Fish." Fish told him, "But you will call me Ms. Mooney. Do you understand, boy?"

"Yes, Ms. Mooney." Oswald said through gritted teeth.

As she had said, Oswald was not given any choice. After introducing herself, Fish cast a spell on Oswald. That strange pink glow in her eyes was the only warning he got before a shimmering, purplish dust materialized out of thin air. It drifted down upon him, covering him from head to toe, and he began to feel drowsy. Despite his efforts to maintain consciousness, his eyelids drooped closed and he fell into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is kind of short and took a long time to update. Writing is hard lol. Well, I did not plan this, but it looks like we are going off into a backstory for Oswald's experience with Fish Mooney. Um... where is this going? Just sit back and enjoy the ride cause I don't know either lol.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During his "apprenticeship" with Ms. Mooney, Oswald would work for the witch as more of an errand boy than a proper student. Despite this setback, he would also learn about the most powerful witches' coven in Gotham, how to fly, and Ms. Mooney's particular way with magic. These lessons he would carry with him even after his eventual betrayal of the witch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you surprised to see an update? So am I. Thank you @knightinpinkunderwear for reminding me this story existed! It honestly slipped my mind until I read your comment lol XD

Oswald traipsed through the basement, skimming the shelves as he went. It was dark and stale and more than a little eerie. He hated it down here and was eager to get this chore over with. Now, F for finger or was it T for thumb? Oswald scanned the jars lined neatly in a row looking for the right place to stow the severed digits. Ms. Mooney had been quite busy 'disciplining' as of late and he was eager to keep his own thumbs from joining the ones stored with the rest of the potion ingredients stock. But he better be quick! His mentor was not known for her patience. Ah! It was F for finger. Oswald quickly set the jar in it's place and ran to rejoin Ms. Mooney in her club upstairs.

The club was only a front to hide the true purpose of Ms. Mooney's headquarters as the gathering place of Gotham's most dangerous coven of witches. And at the top, leader of the rest, was Ms. Mooney herself. Oswald would have felt quite flattered to have gained her attention had it not quickly become apparent that when Ms. Mooney had said "apprentice," she had actually meant "errand boy." His daily tasks included taking stock of the store rooms, organizing the ingredients for every type of potion and witch's brew, and accompanying Ms. Mooney on her business throughout the city. Through it all, Oswald picked up what he could learn about the business of the coven.

Theirs was not the only coven in Gotham (though it was the most powerful), and Ms. Mooney liked to make sure no one dared try to infringe on her territory or interfere with her personal interests. For Oswald, this mostly meant a front row seat to witness her intimidation tactics and, when that failed, he got to see the witch work her magic. 

He was always at her side along with one other, Selina. He would be lying if he said he wasn't somewhat jealous of Selina, a small cat familair that often walked in the form of teenage girl with fluffy, gold-brown curls and bright eyes. Ms. Mooney treated the familar with a warmth it seemed was reserved only for her and the cat enjoyed far greater freedom than Oswald. Meanwhile, he was practically chained to the witch's side (even if not literally) and made to do labor he believed far beneath him. Yes, he was jealous.

But he kept his complaints to himself. Oswald had witnessed enough of what happened to those that displeased the witch to know to keep his mouth shut. Of course, this didn't mean he just accepted it. Oswald was biding his time, learning everything he could, and keeping his head down. He knew one day his moment would come. One day he would overthrow Fish Mooney and claim leadership of the coven for himself. He had only to wait for the opportune moment. Now was not it however. Oswald rejoined Ms. Mooney upstairs and noted the witch's impatient fingernails tapping at the bar. Her cat sat perched on top, swinging her legs back and forth to the sound playfully.

"Oswald." Ms. Mooney called, beckoning with a finger.

"Yes, Ms. Mooney?" Oswald gulped. 

"Go grab two umbrellas. They're in the stand in the back room."

"But it's not raining." Oswald said confused.

"Boy, did I ask if it was raining?" Ms. Mooney questioned sarcastically.

Selina snickered and Oswald glared at her before shaking his head, "No, Ms. Mooney."

"Then. Go. Get. Them."

Oswald scurried away to do as he was told. He found the stand and grabbed two umbrellas as instructed and hurried back before he angered the witch further. He wasn't sure what they were for, but he wouldn't question it again. When he approached, Ms. Mooney held out her hand and Oswald placed one of the umbrellas into her grasp.

"Follow me." Ms. Mooney smiled, "Time for a lesson."

"Bye bye, birdie." Selina called at him.

Oswald swallowed nervously, following Ms. Mooney outside. He should have kept his mouth shut. Now he was going to be taught a lesson and he wasn't at all sure he would like it. They stepped out into the usual Gotham gloom, but as Oswald had said before, it was quite dry. The day was only a little cloudy. Regardless, Ms. Mooney opened her umbrella, holding it over her head. Oswald waited and watched.

"Do you not wish to learn how to fly, Oswald?"

"Fly?"

Oswald could feel his excitement bubbling up. Ms. Mooney was finally teaching him some magic? He quickly mimicked her, opening up his own umbrella and holding it above his head.

Ms. Mooney's eyes began to glow as they always did when the witch used her magic. Oswald expected her to lift off the ground immediately and fly away, but this time she cast her magic out loud for him to hear.

"Umbrella grant me flight. For this magic I bet a bird to catch before I land."

Oswald looked at Ms. Mooney in confusion, "Were you- did you just _talk_ to the _umbrella_?"

"I did." Ms. Mooney answered, smirking at him, "Sort of. You see, for your kind, magic is a part of you. You were born with it like you were born with the blood in your veins. When you use your magic it's like using the energy you use to walk or any other task."

Oswald nodded his understanding. It was true. When he used magic, he always felt fatigued afterwards in a manner similar to exercise. It felt no different from using his muscles and came so naturally it usually happened without prior thought. 

"It's not so for my kind," Ms. Mooney clarified, "For humans. We are not born with innate magic. But we can harness it, bend it to our will. At a cost."

"A cost?"

"To harness the wild magics of the world, a price must be paid. This transaction can take many forms. Some witches choose to pay it straight forward and exchange something of equal value to their desired spell. There are books written about these trades and what can be used for different spells. Tedious magic." Ms. Mooney drawled.

"You don't do tedious, Ms. Mooney." Oswald observed.

"No." Ms. Mooney agreed, eyes flashing vivid fuscia, "I prefer to gamble."

"Your bet to catch the bird." Oswald replied.

"Quick learner. I knew you would be." Ms. Mooney praised, "That's right, I place a bet. If I win, the magic is mine without cost. If I lose, I pay a price. It's risky business if you don't know what you're doing."

"What is the price if you lose?" Oswald inquired.

"In a way, it works like your natural magic. The price is energy, _life energy_. If you lose too much..." Ms. Mooney trailed off ominously.

"You bet with your life?"

"It depends on the level of the spell and the amount of energy one already holds. But enough of that for now. All you need to understand for flight is the basics."

Ms. Mooney began explaining to Oswald how to make bets with magic. She told him the words he chose to use were unimportant. It was the intent behind them that was key. This was true for any spell, including the tedious method she had mentioned previously. All magic worked from intent and energy. And occasionally ingredients. But they were not learning potions that day, so the witch didn't get more detailed than that about ingredients. Everything else was just for show.

"But how does it work?" Oswald questioned, "If there are no special words or secret moves, what makes it any different from any ordinary human just wishing for something to happen?"

"Intent." Ms. Mooney asserted, "When I do magic, it is not my word that makes it so. It is my strength of will, my intent that makes it do my bidding. If my will is strong enough and I have enough life energy to afford the cost, then the magic is mine. Now let's fly."

Ms. Mooney lifted into the air, held aloft by the umbrella. Oswald watched the witch in awe. He murmered a bet of his own and quickly followed after her. He felt the ground suddenly fall away from him as he looked down on the the city far below.

◇◇◇

Flying had been the first of many magic lessons Oswald had recieved under Fish Mooney's instruction. He would always be grateful to her for that. It hadn't stopped his eventual betrayal of the witch in order to steal her status and power for himself. But sometimes when he thought of her, he viewed the memories with a lingering fondness. 

However, Oswald had gained much more than fond memories from the witch. Fish Mooney had taught him knowledge that expanded his own capabilities with magic. His magic was already strong when she first found him, but learning how to harness magic outside of himself had given him the ability to performs spells beyond the ordinary capabilities of his kind. Taking her stores of life energy when he defeated her had made him one of the most powerful magical beings in Gotham. But even with all his power, Oswald had still been bested by a mere human with no magic whatsoever. 

Oswald conjured his umbrella as he watched the terrified human clamber into his car. Edward was trying to start the vehicle but seemed to be having trouble with the task. The poor man's hands shook, probably as much from the cold as from fear at their encounter. Oswald would almost have felt sorry for Edward were it not for the way Martin shook in his arms. The man should be afraid. Oswald might owe him a favor, but he hadn't forgotten the way the man had threatened his boy or the fear he'd seen in Martin's eyes. Favor owed or not, the human would pay for that. For now though, Oswald would take his son home. It had been a long day for the both of them and his only worry was to console his boy, soothe away his fears, and hopefully put this ugly experience out of mind.

"Let's go home."

Oswald lifted Martin into his arms. The boy clung tightly around his neck, safe and sound. Oswald sighed and lifted his umbrella above him the way he'd seen Ms. Mooney do so long ago. He muttered the spell under his breath, plenty of energy left to gamble with, and soared away.


End file.
